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W.H Auden Funeral blues
Stop all the clocks, cut of the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with its juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drums Bring out the coffin let the mourners come

Let the aeroplane circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is dead
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves
Let the policemen wear black cotton gloves

sen versen som du redan fått

The stars are not wanted anymore; put down every one
Take down the moon and dismantle the sun Pour away the ocean, swees down the wood For now, nothing can come to any good